The Question
by MadFace
Summary: The question was always there, never receiving an answer. He knew what the answer was though...so why did he never admit it?


**I FINISHED IT! *throws a party***

**I'm actually supposed to be working on a project that's worth over 130 points (also considered to be a test grade) that's due tomorrow but this story man...I have no idea why, BUT IT WAS JUST SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE! ^_^**

**Well, I'm gonna just let you get to it then. **

**WARNING: Slight violence, and Romano's language (Aka; There's swearing, kiddos).**

**Disclaimer****: I don't own Hetalia. It belongs to its rightful and respectful owners. **

* * *

The color of green was fascinating, to be honest.

He never knew why he thought this, but the first reason of as to why that always arose was, '_It's because it's the color of his eyes, stupid.' _Of course, denial ran strong within him. He'd shake his head frantically, squeezing his eyes shut with furrowed eyebrows as he refused that such a thing was possible.

So, over the multiple years that he lived, he created a list as he stared out of his window on bright days that consisted of clouds lazily drifting through a familiar sea of blue and of a small breeze tousling his hair as he opened yet another window. It held multiple reasons, some of them having a line messily drawn through them or others having a circle around them.

He made sure to hide this list, to keep it discreet. It was rather obvious that if anyone ever located it and read through it, absolute and utter chaos would ensue. And he would prefer to avoid chaos.

So he hid it in the most unexplored area of his house: his attic. In a wooden chest that consisted of his most treasured possessions, it was at the very bottom. Every day, he'd climb up to this chest, open it up and grab it, gazing at it with blank eyes before he pulled out a pen and scribbled down a thing or two, biting down on his lip before returning it to its rightful place.

This process lasted for around four decades before 'shit hit the fan'.

Of course, it was another typical day full of lazing around the house in a pair of sweats and a loose white dress shirt that he'd worn out to a bar the night before. A content expression was plastered on his face, his fingers playing a comfortable lullaby he'd learned as a child on the hard surface of his journal. A pen was being chewed on as he observed the familiar and precious scenery that he never grew tired of. Despite multiple problems that seemed to be lingering at the edge of his peace, he was as blissful and comfortable as he could ever be.

_It's a nice change, _he suddenly wrote down in his journal, under a few others sentences he'd written as he'd chewed on a slightly burnt piece of buttered toast. _Even though I highly dislike (hate even) most changes, this one is nice. It's very comforting. I won't lie…it's nice to get away from all these problems of being the, and I quote from that tomato bastard, 'personifications of the countries' for once. _

Glancing up from his journal, he met the sight of the landscape once again just as a small breeze tousled his russet locks. If he wasn't the hard-hearted man named 'Romano', he would've smiled, yet he was the hard-hearted man that earned the name Romano, so his lips remained drawn in a tight line, the edges only twitching a tiny bit. Releasing a small sigh, he returned to writing.

_The quiet nature of my house is very inviting too, yet as much as I love all of this peace, I can't help but feel like something is amiss. There's green everywhere, and looking back at my list of why the color green is so captivating, I realize that none of those reasons are true. I must be lying to myself about something, but what? _

Almost on cue, a pang started throbbing within him, almost weighing down his heart. A small groan escaped him, his hands running through his hair and his nails biting down on his scalp. "Dammit…Why?" he hissed, digging his palms into his closed eyes.

The next moments were spent in anticipation…his heart pounding relentlessly in his ears, his palms growing sweaty, and the sound of leaves being rustled by the wind now haunting instead of comforting. Consciously, he was ignorant of what exactly he was anticipating for, yet subconsciously, the answer was loud and clear.

He wanted his answer, that was loud and clear for sure, yet it wasn't the _right _answer.

So…what was the right answer then?

Frowning, he realized that he was gazing at a framed picture of him and that tomato bastard from forever ago, back when he just an adolescent. Of course, the Spaniard was grinning brightly, yet his green eyes were wide open and gleaming with joy. And it was no surprise when he saw his younger self scowling as he was being held up on his elder's back, arms crossed and lip jutted out in annoyance.

Upon further inspection, however, there was a small blush.

"Maledizione!" he hissed, slamming the photo down. His eyebrows were furrowed, creating a well know crease. Growling, he slammed his head down on his folded arms, cursing in Italian under his breath. "Fanculo questo! I'm going to sleep," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as another breeze swept by.

Little did he know that this so called peace would no longer be such a thing soon…

~:~

He felt consciousness take over when there was the slight smell of tomatoes and spices travelling through the air. The smell was familiar, and he felt a small jump in his heart when he realized that _he _was here.

Slowly opening his eyes, he quickly realized that it was no longer the bright, warm afternoon he'd seen before falling into unconsciousness. The stars gleamed brightly and clearly, and he briefly remembered that when he visited the United States that only on a few nights could you clearly see the stars. He wondered how bad that must be for young astronomers.

Wiping at his brown eyes with his knuckles, he struggled to his weak feet, stumbling a bit as he made his way to the kitchen. The white, modern house he lived in seemed much too bright at that moment, causing him to squint as he staggered towards the lightened kitchen.

When he entered, however, he was taken aback.

That tomato bastard wasn't _making anything. _No, he was doing quite the opposite.

He was _destroying everything. _

His heart leapt in absolute fear at the moment, a small gasp being drawn from him at the horrid sight. He instinctively took a step back, his hand lingering on the wall next to him. The habit of fleeing at the glimpse of danger was about to kick in, and he was about to comply when he found himself shoved up against a wall, hands pinned above his head.

Tear filled eyes were suddenly only a few inches from his, sorrow and betrayal overpowering all other emotions. "Who is she?" was uttered out from the owner of those green eyes.

If he could've, the brown eyed one would have responded yet he found himself unable to do such a simple act. Something swelled up within his throat, blocking his ability to speak. It was the most uncomfortable, pitiful state he'd ever found himself in.

And he hated it.

"_Who is she?_" His tone changed drastically. The heartbroken emotion that laced itself with his words was now gone, replaced with anger and pain. The two continued staring at each other though, the one being pinned to the wall a shell-shocked mess.

"W-what are you talking about?"

Anger flared within those emerald eyes, and the flash of longer brown hair and a large hat on top that hair merged with the current one. The brown eyed man cowered, eyes wide. "You know what I'm talking about!" he hissed. A mixture between a hiss and a growl was emitted from the furious man when the other one rapidly shook their head. The older man pulled something from their trousers, somehow causing the cowering one to blush, yet he paled when he realized that it was his journal. "_This!_" he snarled.

"How did you get that?!" the pale man gasped. "That's mine! Give it back!" He struggled against the grip, yet found that it was stronger than iron. His heart dropped.

"So it is yours then? Then whose green eyes are you in love with? _Who_!?" the man growled. The grip on his wrists tightened tremendously, nails biting into the skin harshly. A sharp intake of air was performed, his body tensing. His mind was racing with jumbled thoughts, his heart pounding echoing in his ears as he stared with wide eyes into manic jade ones.

"You."

If he could've, he would've slapped a hand over his mouth due to the fact that he just blurted out the most _idiotic thing __**ever**__, _but his hands were currently unavailable, so all the he could do was blush the brightest red ever and avoid that green. As much as he thought that what he just blurted wasn't true, he knew that it was true. His heart beating more erratically and mouth suddenly feeling like a desert supported the theory that what he just said was a fact.

The grip on his wrists suddenly loosened tremendously, yet did not remove itself completely. The blushing country squeezed his eyes shut, lowering his head to hopefully make it impossible to see his blush. "Lovi…"

And then there were strong, familiar arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a warm body. His eyes were wide against fabric that smelled of tomatoes, his arms subconsciously enfolding around the other's body too. His eyes fluttered shut as the two dropped to their knees, just embracing one another, silence welcomed tenderly.

"I love you."

The brown eyes shut wide open, body tensing automatically. The arms around him, however, only tightened. "I can't bear the thought of you being with anyone else, Lovi. I _need _you," the Spanish voice whispered, hurt audible beyond anything else.

Feeling his heart jump, 'Lovi' dug his nails into the clothed back, burying his head in the crook of the tan man's neck. "You're lucky that I love you too, tomato bastard."

'Tomato Bastard' only laughed, the heartfelt noise echoing throughout the kitchen. 'Lovi' listened to it for a moment, eyes shut in content until they shot wide open in remembrance. He shot to his feet, scanning the kitchen.

Pots littered the once neat room, food splattered against the wall, a few butcher knives implanted in counters and in the walls too.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY KITCHEN, YOU BASTARD?!"

**_The end. _**

* * *

**I added humor.**

**The humor fails.**

**Oh, it fails hard. **

**I'm probably going to take it out later though. JUST WAIT AND SEE. **

**Plus, I actually got a story idea from this one, so I MAY write a story based off of this, or something along those lines.**

**MAYBE**

**Anywho, thanks for watching. Sorry if they seemed OOC, it's just my interpretation of how they'd act in this situation.**

**Thanks for reading, and it'd be SO AWESOME if you left a review! I'd appreciate it A LOT. **

**Have an epic day/week! :D **


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